Another thing Travalon and I did on Friday, between meeting
his friend and going to the concert, was go to two more stops on our
pilgrimage: taverns in the book Bottoms
Up. First we went to the Bunker, a tavern with a military theme, in
Waterford. There was camo everywhere, and plastic grenades hung along the bar,
and the bathroom was labeled “Latrine.” Next we went to BJ Wencker’s, a
beautiful old tavern in Burlington that is prominently featured on the front
cover of the book. It is just as lovely inside, with dark wood and a large
mirror behind the bar. Travalon and I are now more than halfway through the
book, but of course all the ones we still need to visit are up north, and I am
out of time off at work. Taking a long honeymoon will do that to you…
Saturday Travalon, Rodney, and I went canoeing for three
hours. We headed up the Yahara towards the island we always mean to see, but
Travalon really wanted to go back into the creek we had previously explored a
bit. We went further into it, but it was getting very shallow so he thought we
had better turn back before getting stuck in the muck. The creek looked like it
continued on, and on Google Earth it appears to go all the way to a water
hazard on the Cherokee Golf Course. I thought it would have been very cool to
get all the way up to the tiny pond and canoe around while golfers stared at us
in disbelief, but if the creek got any shallower, that wouldn’t have been
possible. So we headed back out into the river and turned toward the island,
which is about three trees wide. It is a very pretty green island, unlike the
one in Mendota which is just a bunch of rocks sticking out of the water with
marsh grass growing between them. This one looked like you might actually want
to get out of the canoe and step onto it, but it was very overgrown so that
would have been a difficult proposition. Travalon spotted a sign nailed to a
tree on the island, and he wondered if it were private property, but the sign
just stated that no hunting, trapping, or weapons were allowed on the island.
Does it have a name? Not that we know of, but it is substantial enough that it
merits one. Possibly the neighbors have a nickname for it.
Sunday Travalon and I drove to Milwaukee early enough to get
to the Irishfest Mass at 9:30, then we met Tiffy and went to watch pipes and
drums, dancing schools, and fiddlers. We explored all the shopping areas as
well but didn’t see anything we wanted. If you get to Irishfest early enough on
Sunday with a canned good for donation, you can get in free. I forgot to put on
sunscreen – never a good idea for someone with substantial Irish heritage – and
by the end of the day I looked like a reverse raccoon, with white circles
around my eyes where my sunglasses had shielded them. My theory was that loads
of antioxidants might help the burn heal, so I have been eating even more
fruits and vegetables than usual, and it seems to be working. Today I just look
a bit flushed. Luckily I have that Irish salve to put on it from the time I got
sunburned in Cobh. It seems to be helping too.
Famous Hat
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